


Always and Always

by birdsandivory



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Beta'd, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Markus POV, SimKus, Simarkus, cathartic writing, even though this is a lot of, i needed to highlight that, revolution path, they are so cute together guys, this pairing is purity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 21:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15760068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdsandivory/pseuds/birdsandivory
Summary: Where Josh and North had been silver, Simon was gold.He did not ask for peace, but neither had he demanded war; treading the thread where the blade was at the ready, Simon had harnessed the power of fairness unto his character, something most humans even seemed to lack. Though he became a wallflower amongst the wild roses of Jericho after Markus had arrived, he was unafraid of speaking up if need be, but he never feared the silence either. And even as leader, at times, Markus could not decide which was more profound.





	Always and Always

**Author's Note:**

> I did not think my obsession with Detroit Become Human would come far enough to the point in which I would actually write fiction for it, but here we are, that’s just how you know I love it. And this is me, feeling an obscene amount of feelings for Markus and Simon, too. I’m actually really glad that this became a hyper-fixation of mine, especially since it is so difficult for me to love something so much!
> 
> I really needed to write my catharsis about the whole shebang. I mean, the number of opportunities for Simon to die were incredible and heartbreaking.
> 
> This contains minor spoilers from the Battle for Detroit: Revolution path! Enjoy. :>

_"I am a living thing._

_I am not a human being,_

_But I'm alive._

_I'm alive."_

_\- Prelude to a Dream, Steam Powered Giraffe_

 

* * *

 

_“Stand by.”_

_“We lost a lot of our people.”  
_

_“In position!”_

Their backs against a makeshift wall, Markus attempted to recall how he’d arrived at that very moment in the first place — when he had lived such a peaceful, fulfilling life within a warm and loving home — waving weapons in the frost, blood both red and blue staining his hands as he fought for a freedom he hadn’t known he needed.

Or wanted. 

His existence as an RK200 model was a simplicity he had taken for granted when Carl still breathed, their easily memorized routine began his day undisturbed and ended his nights in tranquility; he wanted for nothing, and in the most comprehensive of terms, he was satisfied — he was  _happy_. And it tasted bitter in his mouth, the fact that he didn’t realize it until there was a target on his back, the very creatures that created him hunting for his head. 

Now, all he wanted was that very same peace.

But that’s what he was fighting for, wasn’t it?

They’d forced him from his home, the humans, stole from him the only life he’d ever known;  _was the bloodshed not worth it?_

It had to be.

And then, there was the matter of the people whom had chosen to follow behind without question or understanding of just what they were placing upon the fine line that separated war and peace; they allowed him to lead, needed him to survive. Despite his longing for the past, his desire to turn back the clock, he wouldn’t give up those he’d met for anything in the world. 

North was an angry, formidable tremor within the earth; her passion was great, though her methods seemed violent back then. And with that in mind, Markus could never doubt her loyalty and dream of freedom. She knew what she wanted, and she would have done anything to get it, regardless of whether or not there were casualties — she’d  _break_  the shackles. Maybe that’s why it had gone her way, even though she no longer lived. 

Strong will lingers with its successors until retribution is won. 

Josh had been the ultimate peace. He lived for his people living, wanted to spare as many lives as possible, even at the cost of his own — whether they were humans or machine, all deserved mercy. Markus had disappointed him more often than not, and if he were still alive, he’d have disappointed him now; this was regardless of the fact that he, as the appointed leader of Jericho, believed he’d exhausted all other options. Humans begged for violence, it was the only way. 

Even with a gun to his head, Josh would have readily disagreed. 

They had been oil and water, the both of them, but they had been his closest friends — and that made everything so much  _harder_.

“Markus.”

And then there was…

“What are we going to do?”

There was  _everything_. 

Where Josh and North had been silver, Simon was gold. 

He did not ask for peace, but neither had he demanded war; treading the thread where the blade was at the ready, Simon had harnessed the power of fairness unto his character, something most humans even seemed to lack. Though he became a wallflower amongst the wild roses of Jericho after Markus had arrived, he was unafraid of speaking up if need be, but he never feared the silence either. And even as leader, at times, Markus could not decide which was more profound. 

The PL600 was the balance amongst the living and the dead. 

And Markus  _loved_  him. 

That is what Carl would have called it, rest his soul. 

The undeniable bond forged had led them to that very point, somehow, both alive and still fighting for their lives — for each other. 

Yet, the blond seemed perturbed, unsettled — though his visage was a calm mask. 

“What are we doing?”

His words were a whisper, but in close proximity, shoulder to shoulder as the snow beneath their boots bloodied — Markus felt the very tone like pins and needles prickling synthetic skin. And there was no anger, no upset, only the slightest of seeds planted within his mind that made he himself completely unsure.

“Are you doubting me now? You said you would follow me.”

“I— I will!” Markus thought it funny, how human and alive Simon was, able to stutter when their programs disallowed such a hiccup; but he had to remember, had to  _realize_ , that they are just as human and alive as they seem — his own cynical outlook aside. Simon blinked up at him with a worried glance, thirium dripping along the once pale flesh of his face. “I keep thinking about North, about Josh, lost in the freighter. They should have been here.”

“They died for our cause.”

“Do you really believe that?” Hands falling slightly, his firearm dropped from the ready, too blue eyes averting from Markus’ mixed stare. “ _Did_  you really believe that?”

They didn’t have the time to speak about their thoughts, not really, and though he would have given anything to sigh and toss his head back against the blockade — to press his fingertips to his partner’s as skin peeled away from them and say what he couldn’t speak in  _connection_ — they didn’t have the luxury.

“We’ve got no choice but to believe that now.”

“It’s always  _‘we’ve got no choice.’_ ” Simon’s laughter was mirthless then as he shook his head incredulously, and searching his face for anything but sorrow, heterochromatic eyes had to settle for the look of sadness that reached for him. And suddenly, the man pulled the gun into himself, bracing it for the next shot — his fright becoming determination, lips lifting crookedly into a smile that held no weight, as though it was just another day. “Whatever the cost, no one’s life can matter more than yours. You’re the hope of our people, so you’ve got to stay alive… Just know, I was always with you, Markus.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the android’s words, nodding in confirmation — or appreciation, more likely — surprised by how quickly Simon threw himself into the fray and away from arm’s reach without looking back, forgoing the last shield of protection they still had. 

He was shot down in that very same instance; Markus hadn’t noticed that his last words were a goodbye. 

And if his blood were anything like that of a human’s, he would have said it ran cold.

The blond was motionless in the winter snow for what felt like a lifetime, the android leader fearing it was his death, but there had to have been some kind of truth to  _‘divine intervention;’_  because the fallen man raised his head blindly to look Markus’ way, spurring him into action. 

“Simon!” Twitching mechanically, fingers grasping at the ground beneath himself, the fallen machine searched for him, it seemed. And Markus felt what he only knew as panic, turning briefly to a group of his people awaiting orders behind a nearby barricade. “Cover me!”

Without much thought, they sprung into action, lifting their weapons with all the fury they had within them and aiming true at the flesh and bone that dared to smother their glory. Bullets flew through the chill, gutting fighters on both sides, but the former RK200 was thinking of another; the fight meant nothing, or at least, it meant nothing for the moment. 

His legs carried him across the battlefield to Simon’s side, the hand not cradling a firearm grasping the torn face of the blond’s shirt, pulling his body with little struggle behind the closest piling — dropping his gun at his feet before taking the man’s face in his hands.

Sightless eyes, cavities filled with thirium bluer than the irises he knew crying tears, strained and struggled to move in all directions — looking, lost,  _searching_  with little hope of success. And Markus could feel the same fear he’d held inside of himself when he’d knelt over Carl’s lifeless body, holding the other impossibly close as he mourned openly. The fates were crueler now, the inevitability of Simon’s shutdown even more painful because he was somehow still alive. 

And Markus wanted to save him. 

“Markus—”

The sound made him inhale sharply, the wetness of his eyes bringing the cold as tears touched winter air, the softness of the plea bringing him both sorrow and the destructive beckoning of wishful thinking. Fingers running with calculated gentleness through platinum locks, he was unable to keep the sadness from his voice as he spoke. 

“Simon?”

“W–as always with you, Ma–rkus—” The words were so desperate, clinging to life with an unavailable soul, wanting nothing but to continue existing in a world that didn’t want him — that didn’t want  _any_  of them. And if they did have hearts, did have souls, his own would have broken just then. 

 _Something_  had broken, for what it was worth.

Still, not simply as leader, but as Simon’s partner — he could not reveal that it was the one thing, the only thing, that had kept him going. 

There was just no time; he had to get him somewhere safe.

“I know, and you’ll still be with me now,” hands moving to pull his arms beneath the deviant’s and hoist him up, he reassured him of everything they would have. “Let’s go.”

“Al–ways wi–th y-you, Mar–kus—” But, it wasn’t enough. “A– lways—” The words came mechanically, remnants of a memory spoken like a broken record, pitch no longer the same musical note he remembered — over and over, without end — because Simon, his Simon, the  _only_ Simon—

—was gone.

“A–lwa–ys with y–ou, —rkus. A–way–, al–ys, alw–ays, al—…” The shine and light of the LEDs powered by the PL600′s inner circuits ceased, the last sign of life slipping from between his hands as easily as he’d held the android the night before — nothing but parts, yet warm under his fingertips. And without much competition, even after Carl’s passing, Markus had never felt quite so devastated — the sob bubbling in his throat more genuine than the hopes he carried; and shaking hands, somehow  _shaking_ and holding blue eyes between them as the world had ended, could barely stand to let go. 

The falling snow failed to melt as it touched the orbit of Simon’s iris, and Markus exhaled with a sound much unlike his cries in the midst of battle, moving to close once curious hues that would never again open to the sky.

Humans were right; the world will forever remain unforgiving. 

Part of him wanted to hold the blond close, scramble for anything that would possibly repair him, but it was already too many minutes past. So, he clung, hands trailing along the column of a pale throat and over clothed shoulders to grasp the stained fabric of the man’s shirt, breath caught despite the fact that he didn’t need to breathe. 

He wished there was more time to mourn. 

But this was  _his_  fight. 

And he’d lost North, and Josh, and now — Simon, but he refused to lose his fight. 

“…I,” he hated to think that a simple goodbye would be the end of them, that he would live or die without telling Simon that they were free to love each other — but, he supposed that the moment they had was enough, because it was the only one they had left. “I’m always with you, too.”

“Markus!” 

Eyes darting upward, he caught sight of several of his followers watching their private moment, faces twisted in fear with the thought of their leader having given up — given in — as he’d lost what seemed to matter most to him. The humans were relentless, aiming at each and every one of them like they were plastic targets to practice on, playing the field until the lot of them were still. 

Violence would be met with violence until the very end and none of them will have won a thing. 

Markus couldn’t stand the thought — not of losing, not of dying, not of giving up when so many counted on him now. And even with the standing fact that he could have risen and walked into open fire without a second thought after losing Simon, he would surely scratch off all other options until dying was the only one before he’d even give the soldiers that glory.

His eyes traveled to the deviant’s face once more and it was a pivotal moment, looking to his partner and then, to his people; to choose between them had always been no competition, and as he reached for his gun and lifted it ready, there was nothing but pain and regret within his heart.

_This is all wrong._

Raising a hand, Jericho prepared for attack.

_This was **not** how it was supposed to end._

Two groups were commanded to attack, one bracing for standby. 

_I’ve killed them all._

“For freedom!”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos keep me writing!


End file.
